Bridging the Solitude
by Pinkchick
Summary: Sam didn’t want to dwell. He was past dwelling. He finally had his brother back and he was going to do something about it. Tag to 4.10, Heaven and Hell. Brotherlyness abound.


**Disclaimer:** Alas, I own nothing.

**Author's Note:** I try to avoid writing anything 'til a season is over, but this just had to be written. It takes place after episode 4.10 and mainly has spoilers from that one episode.

And for the life of me I can't remember which episode Sam mentioned he saw _Indiana Jones_ or when Dean told Sam he'd never seen the Grand Canyon. But, I know it happened!

A big thank you to _Sweet-Destiny3_ for beta-ing! She did a great job. Please read and enjoy!

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**Bridging the Solitude**

**By: Pinkchick**

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_We're on a highway to hell…. Highway to hell…_

Sam leaned over and shut the tape player off angrily. His brother raised his eyebrow at him from the passenger seat but didn't say anything. Sam rubbed a hand across his face in frustration. It had been a long few days. He had come clean about what had happened while Dean was… gone. They had fought demons, stood up to angels, and Sam had finally heard Dean's story about his time in the pit.

He still couldn't understand why after thirty years—why did it have to be so long?—Dean committed one selfish act and felt completely guilty about it. _Because he still has a conscience, you moron_, Sam thought to himself.

Thank God for that. At least he hadn't been down there long enough to…. God, maybe he was down there long enough. Down there long enough for hell to give him back a broken brother. As if their lives weren't screwed up already.

It didn't matter. What mattered was that he was finally back where he belonged. With Sam. An angry Sam who felt guilty himself about not finding a way out of the stupid deal.

One thing he did know was that he was going to take care of this. He didn't know how, since Dean wasn't into chick-flick moments, but he would find a way to get through to his thick headed idiot of a brother.

God, had it really been forty years? Sam tightened his grip on the wheel.

Dean gave him a sideways glance. "You gonna tell me what's wrong?" Dean asked.

"Shut up, Dean."

Dean's eyebrows rose higher. "What the hell crawled up your ass and died, Sam?"

"Nothing." Sam's jaw was hard, voice controlled. "So, this next job, it's…"

"A poltergeist, dude. No biggie." Dean narrowed his eyes at him and pushed himself against the passenger side door. "Y'know, you've been acting funny since…."

"Since what, Dean?" Sam questioned, peering slightly at his slumped brother. If Dean was going to play dumb… well, two could play that game.

He rubbed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, turning purposefully away from Sam. "Nothing," he mumbled softly. "Forget it."

And Sam would. For now.

_The fire never stopped burning. The screaming never ceased. It always reverberated until it reached a climactic pitch which was almost deafening. That screaming had once belonged to him. The pains of a tortured soul. It was before he'd let the pain get to him. Before his gusto had disappeared and his protective walls had receded. Before he'd taken up an offer he'd felt ashamed about even as the word "yes" had passed his lips. _

_Dean held a knife in his hand, Alastair's laughter sounding so near and yet so far away. Dean closed his eyes against the guilt washing over him and drew back the knife. The scream which erupted made clench his eyes shut tighter. He wouldn't look this soul in the eye. He couldn't. _

_The screaming abruptly stopped. . _

"_You're not my brother," Sam's voice was full of sorrow and underlying anger, his head moving forward. His brother's unexpected voice caused Dean to open his eyes. Sam? What was he doing here? "My brother's a hero, not a tormentor. You—you're not him." _

"_Sammy, I…" No, this couldn't be happening. He'd traded his soul for Sam's life. But there his brother was, hanging on the rack of hell just as Dean had been. He shook his head. This was all wrong._

_Cold hazel eyes glared back at him and Dean hung his head, lowering the knife. "I'm sorry." His hands hung loosely at his sides, his posture defeated. How could he torture his own brother? _

_Sam laughed coldly, his eyes glinting against the red and orange light. "You're not sorry. You're a monster, Dean. A monster."_

Dean awoke, sweat slicked and breathing harshly. He leaned his head back against the head board, the word "monster" still echoing in his head. The nightmare was new. A couple of days old, it replaced his usual hell dreams, but was still able to rouse him from a semi decent sleep. Dean held his head in his hands and tried to slow his breathing. There would be no use in waking Sam up too.

The bedside lamp was turned on suddenly and a croaky sounding, "Dean?" followed.

Too late.

"Go back to sleep, Sam."

Sam ignored him and pushed up on his elbow, eyeing Dean warily. "You wanna talk about it?" Dean looked away, arms coming up to protectively cross over his chest. There was a pregnant pause where Sam's eyes narrowed and then lit up. Dean had no idea what was going on in his brother's head. He didn't even want to know what was going on in his own. "Y'know what you haven't seen yet?"

"The back of my eyelids?" Dean raised his eyebrows, sarcasm blatant, followed quickly by an eye roll.

Sam ignored his comment and leaned over the side of his bed fishing for something in there Dean couldn't see. Curiosity getting the better of him, Dean leaned forward in a failed attempt to see what Sam could possibly be hiding.

With an "A-ha!" and a look of triumph, Sam got out of bed slowly and headed over to the motel's (crazy as it sounded) DVD player. It had been shocking to find, but they would take what they could get.

Dean laughed humorlessly. "You're kiddin' me. You bought a movie?" Dean was incredulous.

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, of course not." He paused, looking momentarily like a big puppy. "I rented it." He held up the movie cover so Dean could see.

"_Indiana Jones_?" Dean asked, incredulous. "You rented _Indiana Jones_?"

Sam shrugged, a big dopey smile on his face and said, "Uh, yeah," like it was obvious. Dean leaned forward and rubbed his face again. His dream echoes were falling away already. "I know you were upset I saw it alone, so I rented it for cheap so we could watch it together."

Dean looked up and stared at his brother. The dopey smile had yet to disappear. Dean shook his head. Sam was really enjoying his reaction apparently. He couldn't believe Sam had rented a movie just so he could see it. Sam was a complete douche bag, but he was Dean's brother, and that was all there was to know.

Popping the movie in, Sam moved back toward his bed. But, instead of sitting on it, he moved over to Dean's.

Dean inched his head back and knitted his eyebrows. "Dude, what're you doing?" He was mortified.

"Move over." Sam was already making himself comfortable, pulling the covers over himself and ignoring Dean's open mouthed stare. "Your bed gets a better view, so close your mouth, man. You look like a fish outta water."

Dean rolled his eyes and moved over. This brought back memories of a chubby nine year old Sammy who would sneak into Dean's bed after a nightmare. "Whatever. Just don't hog the sheets with your freakishly long legs."

"You're just jealous cause you're short."

"No, you're just not normal. There _is_ such a thing as personal space, dude."

"We've been sharing small motel rooms all our lives, man. We don't even know the _meaning_ of personal space." Dean was halfway to biting out a proper retort but stopped. After a little bit of shoulder wrestling, they finally settled down to the adventures of _Indiana Jones_.

Sam, for one, kept trying to ruin the movie with his, "Oh, you gotta watch this," and, "This is the best part," remarks.

"Sam, I don't need your girly side dish of commentary," Dean cut in, annoyed.

"Sorry," Sam apologized lamely. "Party pooper," he muttered.

Dean blinked twice. "Sammy, if this were a party there'd be feisty women and a whole lotta beer. You're neither, so shut your cake hole."

There was silence for the next fifteen minutes as they watched the movie. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam grin. "Say one more thing. One more thing, Sam, and I swear to God I'll knock you out and make you sleep with your head in the toilet."

Sam didn't say anything after that, but a hint of a smile passed over his lips. They settled into a comfortable silence as they finished the movie, Dean's dream an echo of a blurred and distant memory.

The hunt for the poltergeist went, thankfully, as planned. There were a few cuts and bruises since the brothers have made reliable friends with bookcases and walls over the years. By the time they'd made it back to the motel, Sam and Dean were so exhausted they fell asleep on top of their beds, too tired to even change into something more comfortable.

"Monster…. Sorry. 'M sorry…."

Sam opened his eyes to the quiet muttering. Over the last few weeks, he'd attuned himself to be an even lighter sleeper now that Dean had begun to divulge into the unconscious world more often. Which Sam couldn't really blame him for. Hell had taken a lot out of his brother and was apparently doing so in sleep as well.

"Monster," Dean muttered again. "'M sorry, Sammy. Sorry…." The moonlight glinted through the half opened curtains. Sam could see the sweat on Dean's face as he shifted in his sleep, his head turning away from Sam.

He furrowed his brow. Monster? Whatever his older brother was dreaming about, it wasn't the usual. Sam leaned over and looked at the large red numbers on the alarm clock. It read: 2:17am. He got out of bed to sit on the edge of Dean's. Just as he leaned over to shake his brother out of his misery, Dean opened his eyes and nearly knocked heads with him as he sat up sharply.

Dean drew his head back and reached for the knife he kept hidden under his pillow, his eyes unfocused and bright. Dean brought it up near enough to Sam's face. The younger hunter flinched back but held his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, hey. It's just me, Dean. It's Sam."

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was hoarse and laced with doubt.

"Yeah. It's okay, put the knife down. You're safe," Sam reassured him. Dean's posture relaxed and he leaned back, eyes seeming to clear. He crossed his arms suddenly, guardedly.

"You wanna talk about it?" Sam asked, trying not to push. If he pushed too hard, Dean would never talk.

"No, Dr. Phil, I don't," Dean bit back. Sam tried not to lose his patience with the older hunter. There was a tense pause. "Hey, Sam?" Dean's voice was softer now, lower.

"Yeah?" He sighed, moving back to his bed. Dean swallowed several times; Sam thought he was going to be sick.

"Nothing. Never mind." Dean abruptly got up, rubbing his face groggily.

Sam raised an eyebrow, concern for his brother possibly doing something rash. "Where're you going?"

"Out." He was bent over, searching for something in his duffel bag.

"Yeah, I see that," Sam tried desperately not to strangle his brother. Finding what he wanted, Dean hastily put a t-shirt, jeans, and his beloved leather jacket on, grabbing his car keys from the table near the door. He avoided looking anywhere near or at Sam. "Out where?"

Dean shrugged, still avoiding eye contact. "Out," he repeated cryptically. "Just…. I need some air."

With that, Dean left their room without another word. Sam couldn't do anything but gape at the closed door his idiot brother had just exited. He sighed and raked a hand through his disheveled hair trying to make sense of what just happened. He debated heavily with himself on whether he should go out and follow his brother, but trusted Dean to not get piss poor drunk if he ended up in a bar; so he remained where he was with only his mind for company.

Sam still wasn't going to push him to reveal anything. Dean had already revealed enough and the realization still made Sam cringe. Made him wish he could've found a way to get him out of hell just one freakin' month earlier.

Sam didn't want to dwell. He was past dwelling. He finally had his brother back and he was going to do something about it.

"Give me the keys, Dean."

"Why?"

"Cause I wanna drive?"

"Was that supposed to be a question or an excuse?"

"Just… I need the keys, Dean."

"Not a chance, Sammy. You've driven my baby enough. Stupid peas in a pod or whatever that music thingy is."

"It's an iPod, Dean. And I just wanna stop somewhere."

"Ok, so you can tell me where this someplace is."

"No!" Sam practically shouted. Dean narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. "It's just…. Dude, I don't want you driving us into a ditch cause of your lack of sleep."

It was a low blow considering, but Dean was a stubborn idiot. His brother looked pained as he reluctantly handed Sam the keys to the Impala with a sigh and a mutter about stopping for pie.

The drive took them around eight hours. By the time they'd reached their destination, Sam was worn out and Dean was half asleep. Dean sat up blearily, almost as if he'd felt the car stop suddenly. He glanced at Sam curiously.

"Where are we?" Dean asked. The sun was just starting to disappear into the horizon.

"Arizona," Sam answered simply, shutting off the engine and stepping out from behind the wheel. Dean followed his lead and closed the door behind him. He glanced at Sam with a look that definitely wanted answers.

"So, Arizona?" Dean started, confusion making his eyebrows crease. "You said there was no job here. What the hell, Sam?"

Sam didn't answer. Instead he nodded his head forward and Dean turned to look in the same general direction. The Grand Canyon stood in front of them in all its glory, the sun glinting off of its massive rocks.

"The Grand Canyon?" Dean's eyes were wide, surprise marring his features for the second time in the span of a few days. It disappeared as quickly as it had come. "There a spirit in the rocks we need to kill or somethin'?"

Sam laughed. The job could wait. This was more important. "No, Dean. You just… you mentioned awhile back that you'd never been here. And, uh, I'd meant to bring you here last year before… well… y'know." He shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.

"Yeah," Dean breathed. Sam saw him swallow heavily, his eyes never leaving the large, looming structure. Dean sobered and glanced quickly at Sam. He clapped his hands together. "Well, we gonna stand here all day, or what? We didn't drive all this way so we can look at it from a freakin' parking lot."

"No, we didn't," Sam agreed. "Let's go."

When they finally got to the top, the sun was low and dark. The brothers stood at the railing in silence for what felt like eternity, just staring down into the abyss of wonder. Sam knew he'd at least accomplished something: rendering Dean speechless.

With a breathy sigh, Dean broke the silence.

"You thought I was gonna use it on you." He was turned away now, staring intently at something in the distance, but the affliction in his voice was loud and clear.

Sam's confused stare turned to him. "What're you talking about, man?"

"The knife back at the motel. You thought I was gonna use it to hurt you."

"Dean—"

"And that's ok, y'know, for you to think that after what I've done."

"Dean—"

"But, Sammy, I hope you know…. Scratch that, you _have_ to know that I would never hurt you."

"Dean!" Sam huffed, finally cutting off his brother from a deprecating tirade. "I know. I _know_, dude. You're not a monster, ok."

"What?" Dean turned sharply to look at him, confusion and desolation in his eyes. There was a flicker of hope in the green depths and Sam took in a deep breath. The need to make everything ok for him was overwhelming. He had to make Dean understand.

"You're _not_ a monster," Sam repeated. He would repeat it until it got through to Dean. Until he realized even a little bit of his worth. "You're my big brother. That's all there is to it, man."

They had both changed, their lives more complicated than he ever remembered, but that didn't mean the important things didn't still matter.

Dean paused and lowered his eyes. His lips pulled up into a small smirk and his eyes traveled back up to meet Sam's. "Damn straight, I'm your big brother. Which translates into one thing."

Sam pretended to scoff, crossing his arms. "And what's that?" A smile played on his lips.

"I'm driving," Dean interpreted smugly. He stuck out his hand, palm open. "Now hand over my baby's keys, Sammy."

Sam handed them over gladly and moved to the passenger side door. The black Chevy groaned as they closed their doors and Dean started the car. Sam leaned back into his seat and listened to Led Zeppelin blare loudly from the car's speakers.

The apocalypse, hell, demons, and angels could be forgotten for awhile. Just for now, it was him, Dean, the Impala and the open road.

Everything was as it should be.


End file.
